White Death by Ken McClure Page A

take in the view. It never failed to gladden his heart. Wordsworth could keep his daffodils; for him the mountains were the thing. He had come to know other mountains well in his lifetime – especially those of North Wales, which had featured so much in his military training – but the Lake District peaks would always hold a special place in his heart. Feeling good, he let the Porsche dawdle down the pass into Windermere and started out along the shore road to Pinetops.
    The first thing that struck Steven when he drove into the car park at Pinetops was that there seemed to be no children about. He had expected to see lots of them, wearing brightly coloured outdoor gear, chattering, laughing as they wheeled dinghy transporters and carried canoes to and from the water’s edge.
    ‘Change-over week,’ explained David Williams, the Welsh chief instructor. ‘We usually have a five-day gap between groups to allow us to clean and maintain things. You wouldn’t believe the havoc children can wreak when they’re not even trying.’
    Steven could see from the window that several canoes were undergoing patching repairs with fibreglass: he’d noticed the strong smell of solvent in the air when he’d got out of the car. He asked Williams some general questions about the camp to get a feel for the place, establishing along the way the number of instructors employed and the type of activities available for the children.
    ‘It’s all about team work and personal responsibility,’ enthused Williams. ‘When you’re out on the hills and something goes wrong, you have to pull together; you share your knowledge, discuss your options and agree on a course of action. You come back safely because you worked as a team; you didn’t all run off in different directions doing your own thing.’
    Steven knew the philosophy well enough and nodded in the right places. Society needed team players, which was all well and good as long as it didn’t lead to the ostracising and exclusion of gifted individuals who preferred to work alone. You didn’t often find genius working in a team.
    ‘So, how can I help you exactly?’ asked Williams, returning Steven’s ID and deciding that the pleasantries were over.
    ‘I understand a group of children were exposed to tuberculosis here a few months ago.’
    ‘So I’m led to believe,’ said Williams. ‘Nothing to do with the camp, you understand. Some kid brought it in but the relevant medical authorities moved quickly and the children were given protection.’
    ‘BCG vaccine,’ said Steven.
    ‘If you say so,’ said Williams. ‘Not exactly my field.’
    ‘There’s one thing I’m not clear about,’ said Steven. ‘How was the child with TB discovered? Did he or she become ill while they were here?’
    ‘Well, no one reported sick to the camp clinic if that’s what you mean,’ said Williams, ‘or I would have heard about it. We have a full-time nurse on the staff and we can call on a local GP if needed. All incidents are logged.’
    ‘Then how?’
    Williams furrowed his brow. ‘You know, I don’t rightly know. I was informed by telephone of the situation.’
    ‘By whom?’
    ‘A Department of Health official, I think he called himself, snooty bugger as I remember. I guess the kid must have had tests before he or she came here and the results caused the shit to hit the fan.’
    ‘I suppose,’ agreed Steven who had noticed that Williams had not given away whether the child was male or female. Was this because he didn’t know?
    ‘What happened to the boy?’ he asked.
    ‘I’ve no idea.’
    ‘But it was a boy?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    Steven looked surprised in order to provoke further comment.
    ‘I suppose he or she was taken off to hospital but I wasn’t asked to make any of the arrangements so I didn’t see it happen. I was just asked to organise the other kids for vaccination.’
    ‘Do you know which school the child was attending?’
    ‘I don’t think they said,’ said